Until Time Runs Out
by swarley and sparkles 5ever
Summary: Imagine a world where everyone is born with a timer on their right arm that counts down to the moment they will first encounter their soulmate. What causes Ted's timer to begin again? Will Barney ever look at his own? Pilot AU. Huge props to the amazing ImperiumWife for the idea and permission to write it :) **Rated T with possible trigger warning**


Intro: This is an AU of the pilot. Imagine a world where everyone is born with a timer on their right arm that counts down to the moment they will first encounter their soulmate. Huge props to the amazing Alyssa (ImperiumWife) for the idea :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Ted stared at the numbers on his forearm, watching as they remained frozen. His timer was unlike anyone else's. He'd spent his whole life with it counting down normally, and then one day it reset. After the initial time change, it never counted down again. He flicked the digital number on his arm, and nothing happened.

For years he stared at the number, 73632.

Seventy-three thousand, six hundred and thirty-two hours until he met his soul mate.

The equivalent to 3,068 days, or a little less that eight and a half years. Ted was fine waiting eight and a half years, he was okay with that. The problem wasn't how long was left, it was the fact that the number was always 73,632. While everyone else in the world had the comfort of knowing the exact date and time they'd meet their soulmate, Ted was not so lucky. He feared his clock would never begin again.

The Soulmate Clocks, or SMCs as they're commonly referred to, weren't perfect. This was a widely accepted fact. Stories had been told for generations of people who died before their clock ever ran out, or some died once it did. SMCs were seriously flawed. Ted wasn't the first person to have his SMC freeze, and once it did, he sought out medical attention immediately.

* * *

_September 2002_

* * *

"Ted Mosby?" The woman in pink scrubs called.  
"Here." Ted said as he lifted his left arm, clutching his right one to his chest.  
"Follow me."

The woman lead Ted through a series of hallways and one elevator, until finally they arrived at a room. The word "Imaging" was written in both print and braille, on a plaque beside the door.

Prior to leaving the room, the woman instructed him to remove his clothing and put on the gown, then lie completely still on the table.

Ted obeyed, and forty-five minutes later, the MRI machine was silent. The voice of the technician in the imaging room gave him permission to move off the table, and re-dress.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity, as Ted sat patiently, awaiting his results. The office he sat in was quite small. A large mahogany desk was cluttered with 3-D diagrams, and sat in the middle of the room, making the room appear much smaller. The walls were lined with bookshelves that touched the ceiling, and there was not a single empty spot on the shelf. The chair he sat in was uncomfortable, years of use had worn out the once firm leather; he felt himself sinking into the seat.

Finally, the doctor walked in. He was only about ten years older than Ted, he wore silver rimmed, square frames which sat at the edge of his nose as he read the papers in hand. Upon entering, the doctor removed his right hand from his coat pocket, and his eyes from the results in his left hand.

"Mr. Mosby." He greeted, reaching his hand out.

Ted shook it firmly, "Hey, doc."

The doctor held Ted's hand tightly, then turned it over. He placed the papers on the desk, and used his left hand to pull up Ted's sleeve. Ted cringed slightly as the doctor's finger probed at his SMC. His forearm felt like someone had lit it on fire, the numbers changed rapidly, increasing at an abnormal speed.

"How peculiar." The doctor said, almost inaudibly.

"Can you please make it stop?" Ted begged, "I'm in so much pain. There's a burning sensation, and I can feel it all the way in my chest. This has been going on for two straight days. Not to mention, my arm feels like lead, it's dead weight. I have almost no use of it."

With an apologetic look on his face, the doctor removed his hands from Ted's arm. He walked around the desk, and sat in the large chocolate brown seat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mosby, but there is nothing I can do. The SMC is the biggest mystery of the human body. It appears yours is counting up. Thankfully, it will stop, and once it does, the pain will go away with it. You arm will have full function again. Unfortunately, I fear that once it stops, it may be frozen. I've seen this only once before."

Ted look at him, horrified. "Will it ever start again?"

"I cannot say for sure."

* * *

Here he was, three years later, sitting at MacLaren's drinking alone. Usually, Ted was optimistic, he had faith that one day his timer would start again, and he'd meet the love of his life. However, this day was particularly difficult for Ted. On this clear September evening, Ted's best friend and roommate Marshall Eriksen, was proposing to his long time girlfriend Lily.

* * *

_August 1996_

* * *

Marshall was awoken from a nap by a low humming, followed by a buzzing sensation in his arm. He looked down at his right forearm, and watched as the numbers on his arm began to fade, changing from black to red, then pink.

The last number ticked, leaving several faint zeros on his arm. He touched his bare skin, then there was a knock at the door.

Marshall opened the door, and there she was.

Standing before him, a petite brunette, with a gothic style and a perky grin. Her green eyes met his hazel ones, and he felt their souls become one. He gave her a goofy grin, and she grabbed his right arm, breaking eye contact to watch as the numbers on his arm sunk into his skin, disappearing forever.

* * *

Ted loved Marshall and Lily, they were two of his best friends in the world. Being a romantic at heart, Ted fantasized about the day that he, Marshall, Lily, and his own soulmate would all be able to live out their lives together. The four of them would attend each other's weddings, raise their children together. They'd grow old together.

The life Ted imagined was put on hold once his clock stopped. He still dated women, but dating was just a way for most people to pass the time, gain some experience, before their SMC ran out. Ted's little fantasy went from romantic, to almost desperate. Part of him believed that once he met the right woman, his SMC would begin again, but there was no way to know for sure.

Ted's thoughts were interrupted by a hand landing on his shoulder, he jumped, surprised by the sudden greeting.

"Jesus, Barney! You're like a cat, we need to get you a bell, or something."

Ted turned to face the blonde man standing behind him. Barney stood at an even six feet, his face was cleanly shaven, with a prominent bone structure. He wore a lavish suit, one that was far too expensive for a casual evening at their local bar. However, beneath his cocky exterior, was a scared little boy, begging for acceptance, but Barney kept him well hidden. The only trace of his deep seeded insecurities lie in his blue eyes, which were full of self-loathing and fear.

"Ted," Barney's voice was suave, seductive, even in casual conversation. He cold sell water to a raincloud, with the kind of persuasiveness he possessed.

"Have you learned nothing? Were the past four years of me teaching you to live, all done in vain?"

"Most likely."

Barney ignored Ted's answer, and continued his monologue, "Teddy boy, I only have one rule, stealth is key. As a single man, prowling the treacherous vicinity of the bar, searching for a fine piece of ass, you have to be a jungle cat. Like a predator stalking it's prey, a silent approach is key to success."

"Alright, this just went from ridiculous to terrifying. I'm not going to stalk a woman."

Barney rolled his eyes, "Ted, it's an analogy."

"Still creepy."

"Fine. Imagine that you're a fisherman, once you toss your pole into a sea of bodacious—"

"Aaaand, now I leave." Ted placed a couple of bills on the bar counter, and stood, walking towards the entrance.

Barney pressed his hand to Ted's chest, preventing him from going anywhere. "Hold it right there. You can't leave now, The Barnacle needs a Wingman."

"Barney, I'm not in the mood tonight. I just want to go upstairs, change into my pajamas and watch Star Wars." Ted's expression of discontent had no effect on Barney.

"LAAAAAAAME!" He shouted in Ted's face.

"Here's what we're going to do. I'll buy us a couple of Scotches, we get you suited up, then we hit the cigar bar – since I can't take you there without a suit. Next, we'll play some laser tag, show little Johnny Dibia and his cousins who the real laser tag king is. Finally, we'll come back to MacLaren's. Drink another round, play 'Haaaaaaaaave you met Ted?' Get both of us laid, or at least just me, and boom! There you have it, a night that's way more awesome than Star Wars and pajamas."

Ted shook his head, "Barney I'm not doing all that stuff with you."

"Ugh. Okay, whatever. Skip the cigar bar and laser tag. Let's just jump straight to the drinks and 'Haaaaaaaave you met Ted?'"

Barney got the bartender's attention, then placed his order, "Two Scotches, neat."

Reluctantly, Ted agreed to stay for a round with Barney. One round turned to two, which turned to three. By the end of it, Ted had a warm fuzzy feeling spreading through his body, and a very expensive tab. Barney had given him some liquid courage, without getting him hammered, and he was now ready to pick up women.

"Alright, kiddo, which not-so-lucky lady do you have your eyes on tonight?" Barney asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Green sweater, twelve o'clock." Ted said, his pupils widening as he spotted her. Barney could almost see his eyes become heart shaped as Ted envisioned a life with this woman.

"Nope, sorry bro. You can't."

Ted pulled his attention away from the brunette with bright blue eyes, and faced Barney. "Why not?"

"Well first of all, she's a ten, way out of your league. Secondly, you have that 'I just want to marry you and have your babies' look in your eyes. And lastly," Barney paused for emphasis, "DIBS!"

Like a child placing a claim on the last fudge pop, Barney's hand shot in the air as he called out the phrase that gave him the right to pursue Green Sweater.

"Barney! No fair." Ted whined.

"I'm sorry bro, but dibs are dibs. Besides you just know she likes it dirty. And I just don't think you're her type."

"Oh please, you don't even know her. For all you know, she could be the Future Mrs. Ted Mosby. She could make my time start again! Come on Barney, you can't do this to me." He made no effort to hide the desperation in his voice.

Barney rolled his eyes at Ted's absurd theory. "Let it go, bro. Your clock is broken, its not going to just start flipping because you spotted a hot chick."

"Barney, you know nothing about SMCs. You haven't even looked at yours in years."

Ted was right, Barney knew nothing about soulmates, nor did he want to.

Unbeknownst to his closest friends, Barney's severe commitment and abandonment issues stemmed from growing up without a father. His whole life, Barney believed that his father wasn't around, because he didn't want him as a son. He was bullied as a child, outcasted as a teenager, and betrayed as a young adult.

The result of his first and only love, Shannon, betraying him, was a vow, one Barney made to himself. He vowed never to allow himself to become that vulnerable again. Never again would someone take advantage of his big heart. His warm, inviting blue eyes froze over, shutting out the world. His tone hardened, and he built up several walls, shutting out his past, disguising his fears.

His transformation into a womanizing robot was almost complete. Barney looked down at his arm, and saw his SMC happily ticking away, reminding him of how Shannon had broken his heart. He didn't want to meet his soulmate, he was content with the life he lived; he was finally in control, he was finally the guy that everyone wanted. Trading in his awesome life of luxury, booze, suits, and babes, for what? A couple crying kids, a naggy wife and a beer belly? Barney knew that wasn't for him, that lifestyle just wasn't in his cards. Over the years, his suit easily disguised the black numbers on his arm. He could ignore it with ease, but as the number got smaller and smaller, Barney's curiosity began to get the best of him.

One morning, when he woke up, and it read four hundred days, he was getting closer. Part of him was tempted to do the calculations and find out the exact date that his SMC expired. Terrified by his intrigue, Barney grabbed a lighter, and pressed the flame to his skin. He closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth as the fire licked his arm. Barney dragged the lighter up and down his SMC, watching as the heat made his skin bubble. The black numbers didn't stop counting, but they were unreadable. Breathing heavily, and shaking in pain, Barney pulled the small fire off his skin.

After it had healed, the skin on his inner right forearm didn't look the same. It was scarred, the counter destroyed. Barney would never know when he'd meet his soulmate, and he didn't want to.

.

"Let's make a deal," Barney began.

Ted sighed, "What?"

"I bone her. Then you can try to marry her or whatever. Give me forty-five minutes, and I promise she's all yours." Barney stuck out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Ted smacked Barney's hand down, "No we don't have a deal. She's a human being Barney, we can't take turns with her."

"You're right. Well, since I have dibs, I guess you're out of luck buddy." Barney patted Ted on the back, and began to walk in the direction of the brunette.

"Not so fast!" Ted grabbed the back of Barney's suit jacket, "I'll do anything for your dibs."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Ted hoped he wouldn't regret saying this.

"Suit up!"

* * *

_Fifteen Minutes Later_

* * *

Barney and Ted reentered the bar, both donning Dolce and Gabbana suits.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Ted said, shaking his head. Although the suit was gorgeous, and made him feel attractive, he also felt horribly overdressed.

"Look at you, you beautiful bastard! You suited up!"

Ted chuckled at Barney's enthusiasm, "Alright Wingman, what's our big move to get Green Sweater to marry me?"

"Well for starters, remove the tampons from your purse, and find you balls. Once you find them, don't mention the 'M' word."

Ignoring the insult, Ted asked curiously, "M word?"

"Marriage. Or the S word."

"Sex?"

"No! Soulmates. That be almost as bad as talking about the L word."

"Isn't that a t.v. show?"

Barney smacked the side of Ted's head, "Love. You say that word, and you'll never see what's under that green sweater."

Ted was skeptical about Barney's advice, though it was probably relevant if the woman wasn't his soulmate, but if she was, all of those things were acceptable to speak of – right?

"And now, we play a little game that I like to call, 'Haaaaaaaave you met Ted?'"

The brunette approached the bar, and ordered a drink. Barney tapped her on the shoulder, "Hi, have you – AHHHH!"

His Wingman duties were abruptly interrupted by the searing pain in his right arm. Barney fell to the floor, clutching his arm in agony.

"Barney!" Ted called.

He and the brunette kneeled beside Barney, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "He feels feverish." She told Ted.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Ted said as he whipped out his phone.

Barney's jaw hurt from gritting his teeth, the pain was so severe, it caused his vision to blur. He closed his eyes periodically, the room spun faster each time he opened them. Barney was struggling to stay awake.

"You're going to be okay." Green Sweater told him with confidence in her voice. He felt her hold his left hand, her blue eyes filled with concern, and fear. "Just hang on."

That was the last thing Barney saw before he passed out.


End file.
